


The Grand Slam

by lizook12



Series: Got a Ball Cap On [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t help but stop and grin at the 'Queen Jr.' emblazoned across the back of her tiny jersey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grand Slam

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I never intended to add a fourth part to this series, but **effie214** suggested it while we were discussing another of my baseball concepts and, once the image took root in my head, I knew I had to add it. 
> 
> Many thanks to **itsalwaysfour** for the read through. Title disclaimer in the first part.

“Hey, can you take her?” Felicity shifts her eight-month-old on her lap, fights to balance her ball cap bowl of ice cream in the other hand. “She keeps trying to steal another bite.”

Turning his back on the game, he grins and lifts Emma from her arms, their eyes meeting over her head. “I’d like a bite myself...” 

“Oliver...” Suppressing a smile, she narrows her eyes, lets her teeth sink into her lower lip before continuing to eat her dessert. 

He just winks in reply, hand squeezing her shoulder as he bounces the baby on his knee. 

“What do you think of your first game, sweetie?” He ducks his head, adjusts Emma’s little hat, which is sitting precariously on her wild curls. Her hands keep clapping together, feet kicking against his leg as music plays through the stadium. 

Smoothing his hand down her back, he can’t help but stop and grin at the ‘Queen Jr.’ emblazoned across the back of her tiny jersey, his thumb tracing the letters as he turns her in his lap. A gale of giggles bubble out of her as he carefully tips her back, presses kisses to her belly.

“Careful, Dad, she just had half of my ice cream.”

“We’re fine.” 

Still, he immediately rights her, lifting an eyebrow at his daughter who’s once again playing with her baby sunglasses. 

It’s been an ongoing game since Felicity slid them into place during the second inning, her fingers pulling them off and on and back again. He’s surprised they haven’t hit one of the Francos in the back of the head yet. 

Excitedly, she removes them once more, waving her arm through the warm June air and—

Her hat falls to the ground. 

“Well, I guess we’re done with that.”

“Guess so.” Felicity bends, shoving it in the diaper bag between their feet. “This is why Aunt Thea isn’t allowed to buy clothes for you yet; you’re too destructive.”

He chuckles, the happiness and laughter in her voice warming him. Grinning over at her, he settles back in his seat, hands shading Emma’s fair skin from the sinking sun. It’s not the most comfortable position in the world, but it doesn’t even matter. 

He’s at a game. 

With his girls. 

His attention shifts back to the field and he watches most of the inning in comfortable awareness, his daughter happily relaxed against his chest, his wife’s hand splayed over the nape of his neck. 

She’s just reaching forward, balancing her now empty ice cream dish in the cup holder between them, when their first baseman hits a beautiful triple. 

“Look Emma...” She angles her body towards them, lifting Emma’s arms to cheer. “Your first triple!” 

“And did you see his slide?” He tickles her sides, nibbles at her ear as Felicity lets go of her hands. “Daddy will teach you how to do that while Mommy takes a thousand and one pictures.” 

“She’s not even crawling yet.” 

“Just planning ahead.”

He smirks as she shakes her head, mouth turning up in spite of itself, and he grabs the abandoned ice cream helmet, quickly plopping it on Em’s head.

Felicity doesn’t even notice at first, is too busy watching their runner sprint home on a passed ball, but then—

“Oliver, she’s going to have ice cream in her hair!” 

“It’s bath night anyhow.” 

“Which you seem to enjoy more than she does.”

“Well, I didn’t get to play with mermaid squirters when I was little!” 

She laughs, leans across the arm rest separating them, and presses a kiss to his jaw. “God, I love you.” Her hand skims his arm, ruffles Emma’s curls. “Love you both so much.” 

He’s about to reply, to point out how lucky that makes _them_ when the inning ends and Felicity scoots forward, rooting through the diaper bag once more. It takes her a couple seconds, but she’s eventually triumphant, fist pumping in the air as she pulls out the camera. 

Tossing the lens cap on top of Em’s pjs, she snaps a picture of Daddy and daughter, grins as Emma takes the bowl off and presses it to Oliver’s shoulder. 

“Felicity, dear...” Liza’s voice jars her to the point that she’s pretty sure her thumb ended up in the last picture she snapped. “Do you want one of the whole family?” 

“That would be...” She glances at Oliver, who’s already standing, his back to the game so that the field will be behind them in the picture. “Yes, thank you.” 

She passes the camera to the other woman, gives her a few quick pointers, and then settles next to her husband, Emma balanced between them. 

It takes less than three seconds—Oliver had bought her a top of the line camera when they’d discovered she was pregnant—and then they’re huddled in their seats again, his thumb drifting across the inside of her wrist as she hits the review button and the picture comes up on the back screen. 

The sun casts a warm glow behind them, the green field and most of their infield players clearly visible. Oliver’s arm is around her waist, her head pressed to his shoulder, both of them grinning widely while Emma clutches both Mom and Dad’s jerseys. 

Tucking a piece of hair under her hat, he kisses the corner of her mouth, settles Emma in her embrace, before curving his arm along the back of her seat. “Perfect.”

And it is. 


End file.
